


Jonathan Francis Ufferhill Perigourdin de Beaulieu of Thirline the Sixth

by notjodieyet



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Thoschei, a very silly idea about a very small pig, the doctor cannot say "fuck"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23253898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjodieyet/pseuds/notjodieyet
Summary: The Doctor just wants to get pegged. A very small pig with a very long name disagrees.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/The Master (Simm), The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Rose Tyler, The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), The Doctor/The Master/Rose Tyler
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	Jonathan Francis Ufferhill Perigourdin de Beaulieu of Thirline the Sixth

It was very, very easy for the Master to work the Doctor up. 

All it took was a murmur in his ear, a nip at his neck, a hand up his shirt, and he’d be squirming in his seat and biting back his pleas. 

And today, it was simply a sideways glance and a quirk of his eyebrows. The Doctor’s telepathy had always been subpar (possibly due to the fact that he had never thought his classes were much worth any attention) but he thought he heard the suggestion of the Master’s bedroom somewhere deep within their fuzzy, disused connection. 

The Doctor raised his eyebrows at the Master from across the room. The Master grinned back. 

“I’m off to get something for repairs,” said the Doctor loudly, standing from his chair at the dining table and clearing his throat. Donna spared him an upward glance; the other two humans in the room were too absorbed in their game of Uno. Ah, well.

The Doctor made it to the hallway outside the Master’s bedroom before the Master himself caught up. (Master bedroom. Hah.) “Took you long enough,” he grumbled. He didn’t manage any words afterwards, as he was slammed into the wall and kissed quite forcefully.

The Master bit down on the Doctor’s bottom lip, his teeth deliciously sharp, and the Doctor concentrated very hard on not making an embarrassing muffled yelping noise. The Doctor fumbled for the Master’s bedroom door knob behind him, managing to clutch it, twist it, and fall through the door with the Master atop him. 

The Master broke from his deep exploration of the back of the Doctor’s throat to say, “You idiot,” quite fondly. 

“Oh, very much so,” said the Doctor, eagerly. “Now, would you like to get off me so we can continue?”

“I don’t think I will,” said the Master, a wicked gleam in his light brown eyes, that seemed to be just built for wicked gleams and mysterious plotting and all that Master nonsense he was so good at. 

“You’re just going to —” The Doctor’s face heated up, and he stuttered a few incomprehensible syllables. “— to me. On the floor?”

The Master grinned. “Unless you have any objection?” He ducked his head down to kiss the Doctor again, and the Doctor practically shivered with excitement.

And then a horrible, inhuman noise split the very air particles of the room, and the Doctor squeaked and shoved the Master off him.

“Oi.”

“There is a — a — _did you hear that noise?_ ”

The Master’s face lit up. “Jonathan Francis Ufferhill Perigourdin de Beaulieu of Thirline the Sixth! Darling!”

“What?”

The Master bounced to his feet (an unnatural motion for him) and sprang over to a small box in the corner. From it he lifted a small, squealing, pink _thing_ , that had four tiny legs all kicking like mad. 

“Jonathan Francis Ufferhill Perigourdin de Beaulieu of Thirline the Sixth. My love.” 

The Doctor flushed again. “ _My love_?”

“Oh, you beautiful thing,” said the Master, obviously speaking to the pig. The Doctor’s hearts dropped.

“Master?”

The Master held Jonathan Whatever Whatever close to his chest. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way, my dear Doctor.”

“A pig. He’s a pig.”

The Master wandered back over to the Doctor, squealing pig in his arms, and said, “Isn’t he just the cutest little thing?”

The Doctor pouted at him. “He’s small and loud and lopsided.” 

“I love him. Picked him up ages ago, I’m surprised you never noticed my darling little Jonathan Francis Uff—”

“That’s a ridiculous name.”

“You’re ridiculous all the time, Doctor.” Not _my dear_ , although his tone suggested it, and the absence of the Master’s much-loved endearment stung. “I have to tell you…”

“What?”

“I do so love Jonathan Francis Ufferhill Perigourdin de Beaulieu of Thirline the Sixth,” said the Master, dreamy-eyed. “There’s no way to sugarcoat this, Doctor! I adore him more than anyone in the world.” 

The Doctor gasped. “What does _he_ have that _I_ don’t?!”

“Oh, you know, he’s perky, cute, quiet…” The Master smirked at the Doctor. “And he lets me eat people without protest.”

“He lets you _what_?” 

The Master kissed the top of the piglet’s head. “I am so, so sorry, Doctor.”

“Master,” said the Doctor, utterly betrayed. 

The Master skipped out of the room, cradling his beloved Jonathan France Something Whatever the Fifty Millionth, and waved good-bye to the Doctor. The Doctor sneered at the door.

Realistically, he knew he didn’t have to be jealous of a pig, because realistically, a pig was not a replacement for a childhood friend and best enemy and wonderful lover, but that didn’t prevent the ridiculous spark of envy in his hearts. 

After a beat, the Doctor stormed out of the room, following the Master down the hallway. They’d never — well, he’d never — erm, they hadn’t _done it_ , as they’d planned to, and the Doctor was going to pout at the Master about it later. 

To his dismay, on the bridge, Donna, Rose, and Martha were all making high pitched noises at the squirming piglet in the Master’s arms. The Doctor frowned. “Rose!”

“Did you meet Jonathan?” said Rose, cheerily.

The Doctor heard the Master muttering something that sounded suspiciously like _Francis Ufferhill Perigourdin de Beaulieu of Thirline the Sixth_ , and he glanced up and said, “Hello, Doctor! My darling is quite popular around the ship.”

“I see,” the Doctor grumbled. “Et tu?” he said to Rose, disappointed. 

Donna shot a shining smile at the Doctor. “He doesn’t talk at all! I think I’ll give him a nice bath and perhaps a little bowtie. Ah, the trouble he could cause…”

“He’s _adorable_ ,” gushed Martha. 

“You’ve gotten them all on your side,” said the Doctor. “Despicable.”

The Master set Jonathan on the floor and wandered over to the Doctor. “How do you like my dear Jonathan Ufferhill Perigourdin?” 

“Aren’t you missing half his name?”

“Don’t tell him I skipped it. He’s very particular when it comes to the de Beaulieu bit.” The Master winked. “But for the record,” he muttered. “ _Icouldneverloveanybodymorethanyou._ ”  
The Doctor brightened up. “Did you just say?”

“Nothing! I said nothing.”

“Oh, Master.”

“I didn’t say anything!” snapped the Master. 

The Doctor swept him into the same type of breath-stealing kiss the Master had pulled him into before. “For what it’s worth,” he said. “I love you, too.”

“Shut it.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. “Make me?”

“Well. If you put it that way.” The Master never could turn down a good challenge, and the Doctor knew it. They stumbled together back to the Master’s bedroom, which was now blissfully Jonathan Of His Many Names-free. 

Whatever. The Doctor would have forgotten his names in a few minutes, if he’d ever really cared. Forgotten every single one of the tiny pig’s names as his thoughts all melted into senseless levels of pleasure.


End file.
